


I don't want to set the world on fire (i just want to start a flame in your heart)

by Talinor



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, Slow Burn, Swearing, fallout 3 au, mild violence, rivals to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 19:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10368216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talinor/pseuds/Talinor
Summary: You're born in the Vault, you die in the Vault.Or, at least, that's what they were told growing up.Or- 5 times in Lance's and Keith's lives that changed them.





	1. 10

**Author's Note:**

> so i've had this fic in mind for a while now, but I never really got around to it until a couple days ago when I needed something to kick my writer's block  
> (and just a lil warning- there are brief mentions of alcoholism in this chapter. I didn't tag it because it'll only be in detail for this chapter)  
> enjoy!

You're born in the Vault, you die in the Vault.

For as long as Lance could remember, those words were drilled into his head. The Vault was safe. The steel walls and the people around him were all he needed. The world outside was too desolate, too barren after the bombs fell nearly 200 years ago. There was nothing out there for him, just like there'd been nothing for his grandparents, or his own parents. There'd probably be nothing out there for his children either.

He didn't need the world outside the thick steel tunnels of Vault 101. He had Mom.

...Well, _sometimes_ he had Mom.

During working hours on most days, Overseer Alfor recommended all children too young to stay on their own to stay at the Vault-Tec issued day care. Parents could walk their children to the room on the way to their assorted jobs. Every day, he watched the others come in. Nyma and Rolo would usually be early, hurried in by their Vault-Tec security guard parents. Lotor sometimes came in with them. The three were practically best friends since birth. As were Allura, the Overseer's daughter, and Takashi, the oldest son of the Vault's only doctor. Keith, Takashi's younger brother, trailed behind them. Like a lost puppy with unkempt black hair and big grayish purple eyes.

Lance would always come in first, and come in early. He always was early to rise. By the time he was up, Mom was still passed out on the couch.

The first couple times, when he was _really_ young, he'd try waking her up. Shaking her shoulder with a tiny gentle hand. Pulling her long unruly brown curls off her face. Insistently saying "Ma," over and over again until her hazel eyes cracked open. He quickly learned waking her was taking a 50/50 risk.

Her face might soften at seeing him, voice soft as shaky hands cupped his face. "Lance, mijo," she'd say. "Mama's tired, okay? Do you think you can walk to day care this morning?" He'd nod, and she'd smile and press her lips to his forehead. "Good boy. Thank you, baby." She'd drift off to sleep as he left, and still be asleep by the time he walked home.

As years passed, it got worse.

The other half of the times he'd wake her up, she'd scowl. "Take a _fucking hint, pendejo,"_ she'd snap. Sometimes her speech would still be slurred. "I was _sleeping._ So jus' take a page from your hijo de puta father and get outta here." She'd take a swig of the nearest bottle that still had something in it and glare at him until he left. He'd come back a few hours later to find her passed out either on the couch or something else in their small shared living space.

He quickly got good at cleaning up because of her.

She'd always apologize for it when she was conscious enough (and if she actually remembered saying those words), but it was never enough. They always stung just like the cuts he'd sometimes get from her glass shards on the floor.

Eventually, he just stopped waking her up. He'd just whip a little something up for breakfast and go out the door.

The day care itself was pretty nice, considering it was the same one his parents once played in. The orange-striped wallpaper was faded and torn up at the corners. The dark brown wooden toy boxes had decorations so faded and scratched up he couldn't even tell what Pre-War cartoon character was supposed to be on there anymore. The wood itself was littered about with various scratches it suffered over the years. Some of the toys in there didn't fare any better.

Most of the toys that could be broken were at least once before. Eventually, someone would fix it up again, with varying degrees of success. Some had more tape covering the surface than paint at this point. Others barely had a scratch. 

Nyma and Lotor usually broke toys, just to hand them over to Rolo. They'd watch, with crossed legs and wide attentive eyes, as Rolo would fix up whatever they did as good as new. Lance tried sitting by them to watch once. They just grimaced in his direction like he smelled disgusting and kept pushing him away until he got the hint.

So much for _them._

Allura and Shiro were much nicer, but he could tell they weren't really interested in him. They'd play with him for a while. Sometimes they'd even read one of the old Pre-War picture books to him. But they'd rather hang out with each other without him than with him. Eventually they stopped coming, too busy with school to bother doing more than dropping Keith off for his dad.

Keith was a pretty quiet kid. Usually he'd read or play with an old red truck toy. The thing was practically his baby. He wouldn't let anyone else play with it, no matter what. If anyone tried taking it from him, he'd either just pout dejectedly in the corner until he got it back or- if Lotor or Nyma had taken it- he'd take it back by force.

One day, Lance found the same kind of toy truck. Except this one was covered in deep blue paint instead of bright red. The paint was scratched in a couple places, and there was a big dent in the right side. He fell in love instantly.

He picked it out of the toy box gingerly. The wheels creaked slightly against the steel floor, but they still rolled along. So Lance 'drove' it over to Keith, making the sounds he could only guess cars made. Keith looked at him with confusion. Lance simply smiled.

And then he drove his newfound toy right into Keith's.

Their friendship was... a bit strange, to say the least. They didn't really do much together. Keith usually preferred to be alone. At least, he sometimes didn't talk much. But he wouldn't oppose to Lance sitting by him and filling the silence. So that's how they were- Lance and Keith, the talker and the listener.

And then they started school.

After the very first day, he knew he hated it. He hated sitting in a desk all day, listening to Mr. Iverson drone on and on about history or math or whatever Vault-Tec wanted them to learn. He hated sitting in front, constantly feeling wads of crumpled up paper thrown at him when the teacher wasn't looking. He hated how antsy it made him feel. 

But most of all, he hated how it alienated him from his only friend.

Keith got put in a higher-up class starting 15 minutes after Lance's own class ended, so they'd barely get a chance to hang out anymore. They drifted further and further apart. Not to mention the terrible three were in the same class as Lance. It felt like they were always... looking at him. Judging him. Not to mention the dozen or so strangers or 'classmates' who barely looked at him, let alone talked to him.

One day, after the bell rang over the intercom to signify the end of class for the day, he found someone waiting for him. The fact that someone was waiting for him wasn't new. Except usually it was Keith, Shiro, or Allura- sometimes a combination of the three since they were all in the same class.

But not this time.

This time, he was met with a middle-aged man with pale skin, salt and pepper hair and stubborn, and kindly light grey eyes. He was dressed in the issued Vault-Tec jumpsuit with a pristine white lab coat over it, and was seemingly double Lance's 9-year-old height. The man had a scar through his right eyebrow. Lance knew who it was immediately, recognizing the face as the man who sometimes dropped Shiro and Keith off at day care.

Their dad, Dr. James.

"Hey, kiddo," he said. His laugh lines showed when he smiled. "How've you been?"

"Uh..." He didn't really know what to say. "I'm good."

"Yeah? And what about your mother?" He bent down to be eye-level with him. His eyes didn't hide his concern very well. "I haven't heard from Josephine in a while. How is she?"

"She's good," he lied. "Getting plenty to drink and all the rest she needs." That... technically wasn't a lie. Just prettying up the truth a bit.

Dr. James apparently saw right through it. His expression softened into a look of sympathy. "Lance," he gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "If you ever want to talk about anything or need a place to stay for a night or two, you can always come to the clinic. I know things have been hard on the two of you. And I know it doesn't seem fair, but you need to take care of your mother. Make sure she's taking her meds, drinking water and eating. Okay?"

Lance nodded reluctantly.

He smiled, giving Lance a firm pat. "Good," he said, standing up to his full height. "Don't worry, I didn't just come here to talk about your mother. You do know that Keith's birthday is tomorrow, right?"

Of course he did. His present had been ready for weeks, after a couple hours of digging around for some unused wrapping paper and a box big enough. It was waiting in his closet. He nodded.

"Well," Dr. James continued, leaning his shoulder against the wall. "As you know, he's turning 10 this year. A pretty important age down here." Lance knew that all too well.

At the age of 10, every Vault resident got their first Pip-Boy. A handy Pre-War device latched to the arm that could track the Vault's inventory, had a mapping system of every level of the Vault, and could link to others to send and get messages. It also kept track of vitals, something he used often on his mother's to make sure she was okay.

10 was also when Vault citizens started doing little jobs around the Vault. Kinda like chores, but on a wider scale. It was apparently supposed to help young inhabitants figure out what they were good at doing to make the G.O.A.T test to figure out their jobs as adults easier.

The former sounded awesome. The latter, not so much.

"...And we managed to reserve the dining hall for a couple hours tomorrow for a surprise party." No doubt Allura's doing. Being close to the Overseer's daughter obviously had perks. "Don't tell Keith I said anything about this, but I know he'd want you to come."

He raised a brow. "Why do you say that? We barely ever talk."

Dr. James smiled again, eyes shining in amusement. "He misses you. More than you think." He raised a brow. "So? Are you going tomorrow?"

'He misses you more than you know.' What the heck did _that_ mean?

Despite that little riddle riding around in his mind, he nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there," he said. "What time?"

"6:50 to 9 pm," Dr. James told him. "It starts a bit before Keith's class ends."

"Okay, gotcha. I'll be there."

"Good," he ruffled a hand through Lance's self-clipped short brown hair. "See you tomorrow, then." With that, he turned around and headed in the direction of the clinic. He passed by Keith, who looked between his father and Lance.

"What was that about?" He asked once he was close enough.

Lance shrugged. "Nothin' out of the ordinary," he said casually. "Just asking how my mom's doing and all that jazz." Once again, not really a lie. Just over-generalizing the truth.

"Oh," Keith said, eyes flickering to the nearest clock. His eyes widened and his hands gripped his hand-me-down school bag a bit tighter. "I gotta go," he passed by Lance, but turned to look at him with a slight smile. "See you tomorrow?"

Lance returned it, raising his hand in a small wave. "Yeah."

With that, he headed home. The route was pretty familiar to him by now, his mind on autopilot as his feet raced up the steps to the residential level. Three hallways branched out in front of the stairs' entrance, each one lined with Vault issued mechanical doors. Numbers in faded yellow paint showed which doors led where. He headed to his left, nodding his head at the stationed security guard.

It didn't take long to find which room was his. The small rectangular window had its drapes down as usual, blocking the view inside with a light peachy color. His door, like all the others, had a keycard slot next to it. A keycard that he obviously had. He never left home without it. It stuck a bit out of his jumpsuit's tiny pocket, but at least it was still there. He slipped it out and swiped the barcoded edge through the thin slot. It made the usual scanning noise, the small circular light in the corner glowing yellow.

Finally, the light turned green with a confirmatory beeping sound. The door slid up smoothly, revealing his small living room. As usual, it was littered with nearly-empty beer bottles strewn about the small baby blue rug underneath the small glass table. Mom was curled up underneath it, holding a bottle to her chest.

"Mama," he said softly. "I'm home. You awake?"

She snorted, her head moving up slightly in what was her version of a nod.

He sighed, putting his card in his school bag. He stepped in the room, careful of any bottle in his path. There were less than usual. Maybe that was a good sign. The door closed behind him.

"Do you think I-"

She winced, clutching her temples with her other hand. "Lance, mijo," she said with a groan. "Mama's head _really_ hurts right now. Could you keep it down for me?"

He paused. He wasn't even being that loud. "Okay," he said in a quieter tone, carefully putting his bag on the pastel yellow couch. "Do you want some water, or anything else?"

Mom shook her head. "No, thank you," she said. "Jus' tired, is all."

"Okay." He bent down to get a better look at her face. "Just be sure to get some food sometime, okay?"

She nodded. "Don't worry, baby," she assured with a tired smile. "I will."

"Good," he said, returning it. He stood up again and got up to the door to his room before he remembered what he was gonna ask. He turned his head around to look back at her. "Oh, and Mama?"

"Mhm?" She hummed, cracking an eye open to peek at him.

"Keith's having a birthday party tomorrow at 6:50," he told her. "Can I go?"

She simply nodded and closed her eye. Lance headed to his room and shut the door. He'd end up cleaning up the bottles on the floor and making dinner for the two of them eventually, but for the moment he just wanted to relax on his bed. Cleaning up could wait for a bit.

-

The dining hall was already fully decorated when he got there. There wasn't much on the red leather seats or the stainless steel tables right now, except for the two pushed together at the wall to hold the ten or so presents. Handmade banners reading 'Happy Birthday Keith!' in red marker hung in both the entrance doorways. The old jukebox in the corner had a dull shine to it, looking better than he'd ever seen it. The old checkered tile looked freshly cleaned, as did the counter boxing off the entrance to the kitchen.

Beezer, an old Mr. Handy unit, chirped a tune as he brought out the plates and forks for everyone. The other guests mingled amongst themselves- Overseer Alfor talking with at least two people at one time, Slav the Vault's main (only) engineer fiddling with a small Pip-Boy at the counter, Lotor's dad with a really ominous name _(Zarkon,_ like he was meant to be an evil space emperor or something) standing guard at one of the doorways. Dr. James stood against the wall, waiting by the intercom for Allura's signal.

 _"Oh my god,"_ he heard Lotor groan out at the table next to him. "This is so _boring."_

"Yeah," Nyma said with a nod, her blonde hair pulled in a small ponytail. "At least yours was fun."

"'Fun'?" Rolo let out a breathy laugh at the memory. "You guys almost blew up Beezer, for christsake."

"...And?" Lotor raised a brow. "What's your point? Didn't you have fun?"

"Yeah, I did." Rolo confessed. He smiled at the other boy. "Remember when Nyma fuckin' tackled you to the ground during football?"

"Like I'm ever gonna forget _that."_ Nyma preened at his words, making a show of flexing her arms and showing off the muscles that weren't really there. At least, not yet.

She stopped when she noticed Lance staring.

"What're _you_ looking at?" When she asked, the other two turned their heads toward him. 

His eyes widened, heat quickly overtaking his skin in embarrassment. "I- I just-" His mind raced, grasping for anything to say to make this situation better.

Thankfully, he didn't have to.

Allura's voice on the intercom cut through the room. "He's headed this way now," she told them. "Quick! Hide!"

Beezer made a high-pitched sound and dashed into the kitchen. Rolo, Nyma, and Lotor all rolled their eyes and slouched down in their seats until they couldn't be seen. Lance ducked down underneath his table. The lights dimmed, the room almost completely silent for a few moments.

Then the door slipped open and two sets of footsteps walked into the room.

"Okay Takashi," he heard Keith say. "Are we here? Can you finally take this thing off me now?"

He peeked his head out to see Keith with a darkly-colored blindfold over his eyes and Shiro standing behind him holding up three fingers. 'Three,' he mouthed.

'Two...' He put one of his fingers down. 

'One.' Another finger down. Lance readied himself.

Finally the last finger joined the others, and Shiro suddenly snatched Keith's blindfold. He ripped it off in one fluid action, and the lights flicked back on as Keith cracked his eyes open.

 _"Surprise!"_ they all shouted with varying levels of enthusiasm as they all revealed themselves from their hiding spots. Keith's eyes widened in surprise as he soaked in the sight of the scene before him.

When those violet eyes landed on him, Lance smiled. Keith mirrored it, his only growing bigger as he noticed everything around him.

"Oh my god," he said in breathless disbelief. Dr. James stepped to his son's side. "You- you--"

"Happy birthday, son." Dr. James smiled, placing a hand on Keith's shoulder.

People started to crowd the birthday boy, wishing him a happy birthday and congratulations on the double digits and all that jazz. Old Pre-War music played through the jukebox' older speakers. The room was quickly filled with conversations as more and more residents filed in to the dining hall. Lance stayed back, smiling at anyone who passed by but not really part of any conversations. He was content with watching Keith's reactions for the moment.

Despite the fact that Keith usually stayed at the edge of crowds, he seemed pretty fine with being in the middle of one for once. Even if he did seem a bit overwhelmed at all the attention, he was also absolutely _beaming._ When Slav handed him the Pip-Boy, Keith was practically glowing with excitement. Lance had never seen him smile so much at one time.

It was... kinda nice.

Finally, Keith broke away from the crowd and headed to his table.

"Hey," he said, looking away from his Pip-Boy's screen to focus more on Lance. 

"Whoa," Lance said, scanning him up and down. "Who's _this_ grown-up stranger?"

Keith slid into the opposite seat with a slight laugh. "Ha ha," he said sarcastically. "Very funny, Lance."

Lance fake gasped, clutching his chest with one hand. "How do you know my name?"

"'Cause I'm secretly a half-alien with mind reading powers trying to blend into human society." Keith deadpanned.

"I _knew_ it," he whispered with fake seriousness.

Keith let out another laugh. "Anyways," he put his elbow on the table, propping his chin up with his knuckles. "How've you been lately? We don't really get to talk anymore."

"Well," he gave the smoothest smile he could. "I'm _much_ better now, birthday boy." He gave Keith a wink.

Keith's face tinged with a faint shade of pink. He covered his smile with a hand, rolling his eyes. "I forgot how embarrassing you can be."

"I don't really hear you complaining," he said. "If you want, I can up the ante for you. Jog your memory a bit more."

 _"God,"_ he said, covering his entire face now. The Pip-Boy screen cheerfully showed an increase in heart rate. "Please don't. I might actually die."

 _"Fine,"_ Lance sighed and slumped against his seat. "I don't wanna kill the birthday boy. I'll stop."

Beezer let out a small bit of prerecorded fanfare, carrying three different platters of pretty decent-sized circular cakes. They all had different flavored frosting on them- vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry- but when he got a closer look at them for his own slice, they all had 'Happy Birthday, Keith!' in red. Keith's favorite color.

"You picked _strawberry?"_ he gasped, looking down at Keith's plate. "You literally picked the worst option out of all of them. You do realize that, right?" Due to most of the cake supplies being pretty old, they didn't quite... taste the same as they probably should. Vanilla was kinda bland, chocolate had kind of a kick to it (that he didn't really mind that much), and strawberry tasted like ass.

No sugarcoating this time. It tasted awful.

Okay, _maybe_ he was exaggerating a little bit. But strawberry still tasted pretty terrible. And Keith was willingly putting himself through that.

"What?" Keith said with a shrug. "I like it."

"Keith, buddy," he slid his chocolate cake slice across the table to the birthday boy. "Love yourself."

Keith pushed it back to him. "I already do."

Lance snickered, pushing it back. "Obviously not."

Their back and forth went on for a little while, growing a bit more aggressive. Dr. James eventually stepped in to stop in before any play-fighting started, and Lance resigned himself to letting Keith eat his strawfulberry slice of cake. At least he tried.

Eventually, Lance got up to wait in line to get the two of them another slice. He focused more on the line ahead of him than anything else. He barely noticed Allura, Shiro, and Dr. James slip sneakily out of the room into the hallway.

He didn't notice Lotor slide into the seat across from Keith. 

He didn't hear a word of their conversation.

He didn't notice Keith's face slowly fall as he listened to Lotor's words, then darken.

By the time Lance got to the front of the line, there was only one slice left. It was vanilla.

By the time he turned around and headed back to their table, Lotor had already went back to his own. Like he never left in the first place.

"Hey," he said, sliding the plate to Keith. "Any chance we could share this?"

"Why," Keith glowered at him, voice hard and nearly emotionless. "Did your mom drink up all the food rations again?" He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes.

Have you ever had your opinion of someone drop so hard and so fast you can physically _feel_ it?

That's what happened to Lance in that moment.

"I... think I misheard you." There was no possible way Keith just said that, right? Maybe he was just imagining things. _"What_ did you just say?"

Keith didn't even hesitate. "You heard me." His face was neutral, as cool as ever.

For some reason, that only pissed Lance off even more. "Oh yeah?" He said, setting his jaw. "At least I know where _my_ mom is, _Kogane."_

Keith furrowed his brows. That was a pretty low blow, but Keith threw the first one. Lance was simply fighting fire with fire.

Right now, he only hoped Keith fucking _burned._

"You know," he noticed Keith's clasped and clenched hands were shaking, barely holding himself back. "That's funny coming from you, _Rosales."_

Logically in-the-long-run thinking- he knew he should get up and walk away. Calm down, clear his head, and talk it out with Keith later. Their conversation was recklessly heading towards an uncrossable line very quickly. It was going to crash and burn, severely damaging their relationship for a long time. If not permanently.

Emotionally in-the-moment thinking, though- _screw that._

"What the hell do you mean by _that?"_

Keith gave him a mocking smile. Lance clenched his fists.

"At least I know _who my_ dad is."

In that moment, Lance's vision went red. 

He barely noticed his fist flying for Keith's nose. He barely noticed the loud cracking sound it made as it started gushing blood or the pain in his own knuckles. He didn't even notice all eyes were on them.

The feeling of strong unyielding arms picking him up like a twig brought him back to reality. He didn't really think about what he was doing. Just struggled to wriggle free of the tight grasp, mumbling things that he wasn't entirely sure were in English anymore. Tears stung his eyes as he kicked and screamed against Zarkon, feeling himself get carried out of the room despite his best efforts. The last sight he saw of the dining hall was a crowd huddled nervously around Keith, and for a moment, their eyes met.

Then the door slid shut.

The fight quickly left him as Zarkon carried him up the stairs to the residential area. His anger felt like a flash fire- spontaneous, chaotic, destructive, and over with very fast. He didn't really feel angry anymore, just... sad. And tired. Lance slumped against Zarkon's arms limply, looking up at the man's scarred face. Zarkon looked down at him with a raised brow.

"Is your little temper tantrum over with now?" The man's rough, deep and gravelly voice sounded.

Lance nodded.

"Good," he said, letting Lance down in front of his door. "Because for the rest of the week," he slipped his master keycard into the slot. "your free period after school," the machine beeped, the light glowing green. "Has been revoked." The door slid open, but before Lance could step in, he felt a hand grip his shoulder. Forcing him to stay. "If I, or any of the other guards, find you out of your residence five minutes after your class is out, your punishment will be _much worse."_ The harsh glare of the man's eyes made him feel smaller than ever and made his blood feel like icy sludge. "Understand?"

Lance quickly nodded.

"Good," Zarkon let go of his shoulder. "Now go in."

Lance did as he was told quickly. He met the sight of his mom sitting upright on the couch for once, fully awake. There weren't any bottles littering the floor. When the door closed, Mom looked to him with wide eyes.

"You're home early," she said with a bit of concern. "What happened?"

He wanted to say something. Explain what happened. But for once, words failed him. The gates holding back the tide of emotion raging through him were slowly slipping.

Without a word, he raced into his mother's arms, wrapping his own around her torso tightly. The gates finally broke. His body was wracked with sobs.

He felt her arms wrap around him protectively. Like a human shield, protecting her little boy from anything that might hurt him. Like the memory of what he did catching up to him. Or the thought that he just punched pretty much his only friend in the face and gave him a nosebleed. Or the words Keith said that stung almost as much as his fist did right now.

Okay, so it wasn't doing the best job. But it had been a while since he could just be held, a gentle hand in his hair and soft whispers in his ear.

He'd missed it more than he knew.

The next morning, he opened his door to find someone waiting for him. Someone who barely gave him the time of day without annoying him, let alone actually _smiled_ at him for any reason.

And yet, that was what Lotor was doing. Standing at Lance's door with his own school bag slung over his shoulder and beaming at him.

"Lotor," he said, stopping in his tracks. He looked at the other boy with a hint of suspicion. "What're you doing here?"

"Lance, buddy," he slung an arm over Lance's shoulders like they were the best of childhood friends. He led Lance out, and Lance reluctantly followed along. They were going to the same place, after all. "Heard about the punishment my dad gave you yesterday. It sucks, huh?"

Lance nodded hesitantly, stepping down the stairs beside him.

"It's not fair on you, man."

"What do ya mean by that?" Lance raised a brow.

"I _mean,"_ Lotor started to explain. "It's too hard on you. I heard what Kogane said to you, and if anyone said that kinda stuff to _me,_ I would've done the exact same thing. A lotta people would, in that kinda situation."

"...Huh," he found himself saying. "I... I guess you're right."

"I know I am," his expression softened. "Hey, I know me and the twins haven't always been nice to you." That was an understatement. "And if ya' want, we'll leave you alone. But next Tuesday, we're gonna have a little party at the twins' room. And I wanted to see if you wanted to come."

Lance stopped the two of them in their tracks a few feet from the classroom and looked at Lotor with barely contained surprise. Did he step into some kind of alternate dimension? Where up was down, left was right, and people actually wanted him to hang out with them?

"Why are you asking _me?"_ He couldn't help but ask. "We've barely ever talked to each other."

"I know," he said with a shrug. "I can respect a guy who defends himself from some know-it-all punk saying shit about his mom." He removed his arm from where it rested on Lance's shoulder. "Just... think about it, okay?"

Lance nodded.

He thought it over through the entire class, only half-listening to Iverson drone on and on about some war about 300 years ago. Nothing was thrown at him. No judging eyes stared at him. It was... kinda nice, actually.

When he passed by Keith and saw his face, Lance made up his mind.

He was going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't hate me  
> it gets better from here  
> my tumblr: squishy--squish  
> comments are always appreciated!


	2. 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor's a creep, Keith has testing anxiety, and Lance gives Keith a gift.
> 
> Very vague, but that's the briefest summary for this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yet another chapter that ran away from me! I promise to get these out as soon as I can, but I'm a very slow writer so please be patient with me   
> (there's a super obvious Star Wars reference in here btw)  
> enjoy!

_The shrill sound of a baby's cry pierced the air, drowning out the heart monitor's beeping with ease. James pulled his son closer to him carefully. His white gloves and new lab coat were stained with the mess of fluids on his newborn son's body, but he didn't care. He couldn't help but smile._

_"It's a boy," he breathed out. He stepped closer to his wife to show her. "We did it, Areum." He smiled, looking down at the boy's round face and the barest wisps of hair on his head. "A beautiful, healthy baby boy."_

_Areum gave him a tired smile, her violet eyes half-lidded and shining. Her pale skin was covered in a fine layer of sweat, her short black hair messy from the pillows. Her thin hospital gown was drenched. But he'd never seen her happier than she was in that moment._

_"We really did," she agreed. One hand shakily moved to touch her baby's head. "Bet he's gonna look just as good as his daddy when he grows up."_

_"Yeah," James nodded. "If not more." He smiled at her. "He is_ your _son, after all._

_"Flatterer."_

_Quick little footfalls sounded down the hall. They were quickly headed towards the room the two (well, three) were in. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out just who those fast steps belonged to. James turned around to see little Takashi at the doorway._

_His eyes slightly widened at the sight of his little brother. The three year old looked at his father shyly. "Can I?" He asked, taking a couple steps towards them._

_"Of course," James nodded. He turned around to get a clean white towel from the stainless steel bedside table next to the hospital cot. "Just a second." The baby squirmed a bit at the new sensation of the fluffy cloth, but eventually let his father wrap it around him. He met Takashi halfway. "You remember how to hold him right?" Takashi nodded. "Good." He gently passed the bundle to the little boy's waiting arms. "Carefully, careful..." His older son followed his instructions, handling his little brother like he was a fragile and exquisite thing. Which he was._

_They both were._

_Takashi looked down at how he was holding his brother, then looked back up at his father. "Like this?"_

_"Yes, exactly like that." James stepped to the side, allowing Areum better access to the sight of their children. "Good job, Takashi."_

_Areum gave them a content smile. She sighed, a weak hand clasping into James'. "My... my wonderful boys, all in one place." Her breathing was getting labored._

_The heart monitor quickly picked up the pace._

_Areum's hand tightened in his. "James... something's..." Her breath quickened as she gasped for all the oxygen she could possibly get. But it still wasn't enough. Takashi stood still, looking at the machinery with fear. The baby started to cry once more, spurred on by the sudden spike of stress in the room._

_"Daddy," he said, watching his father rush to fix the problem. "What's--"_

_"Takashi, get your brother out of here."_

_"But-" the beeping was growing more insistent. Areum's eyes fluttered shut._

"Now, _Takashi!" James snapped, and he couldn't help but flinch._

_So he did what he was told._

_He turned tail and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He ignored his father's pleas to his dying mother. He ignored the other doctor rushing past him with a defibrillator to try and help. He ignored the high-pitched droning beep._

_He just ran._

Keith barely listened to Iverson's lecture about the Great War that caused the world to go to hell and their great-grandparents to go into the Vault. It was a standard lesson they had to cover every year as part of Vault-Tec's guidelines or some shit like that.

Which wouldn't really be a problem. The Great War was kinda interesting, if you got hooked into the buildup to it. The boom of industrialization before it all, using nuclear power to improve everyday life. Cars could get you almost anywhere you wanted to go in the span of a few hours to a few days. New inventions were coming out left and right. Life was good.

But good things never lasted. The deadliest bust in human history quickly followed the boom. A bust that killed billions of people and, if Vault-Tec was to really be believed, left the world outside a radioactive wasteland unfit for natural life of any kind.

But the problem with this yearly lecture was the fact that barely any of that was ever mentioned. Year after year after year, it was the exact same thing. Same empty words, same empty lesson, same waste of time. One day each and every year without fail. At this point, he's pretty sure most of the students could walk up to the front and recite the lecture word for word.

Instead of actually interesting stuff or thought-provoking commentary on the destructive nature of man, they got the same 'your great-grandparents were lucky enough to be saved' over-glorifying bullshit. Not to mention he would usually glance at Keith at the back of the room when he said that particular line. He never mentioned why.

A quiet beep from his Pip-Boy brought him out of his little thoughtful trance. Snapped him back to reality, for better or worse.

The lights were low, the light of the old projector illuminating the board up front. Iverson was pointing out the usual holo-tapes of how times were before the war, like a commercial for a Mr. Handy unit or interviews with Vault-Tec executives about their plans for the Vaults. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

He glanced at the clock, barely visible on the wall opposite of him. But the projector provided him with just enough light to see what the time was. 6:50. He huffed out a breath. He had to deal with 10 more minutes of this.

_Fantastic._

And someone decided to send him a message in the tail-end of class. It couldn't be the usuals- Dad, Allura, or Takashi- they all knew how much Iverson hated people using their Pip-Boys during class. Plus, if they wanted to tell Keith anything, they could always wait the 10 minutes to tell him in person.

Now, everyone in the Vault with a Pip-Boy of their own could message him. But why would they? Barely anyone not related to him even acknowledged his existence. Sometimes Head Officer Zarkon would send a mass-message, but then everyone's devices would be going off. Right now, it was just him.

Curiosity creeped up on him. It was a little mystery, attached right to his arm. It was a lot more interesting than whatever point in the lecture Iverson was at right now. Nobody was looking at him right now. Not to mention the screen of his Pip-Boy's light was barely noticeable, even with the lights turned down. It wouldn't hurt to sneak a peek, right?

It didn't take much to convince himself after that.

With a final glance to see Iverson still preoccupied, he tapped on the dark red screen. Most models had the standard dark green screen and green text, but Dad showed him how to change it with his upgraded model a few months back. It didn't change that much about his Pip-Boy, but he still appreciated the new colors. The standard green wasn't really an interesting color to him.

His new Pip-Boy wasn't really that different from his older model, aside from the color changes and the size. It had most of the same features, like his vitals in tiny letters in the corner. A small Geiger counter screen to the left of the actual screen always helpfully pointed at 0. The messenger was slightly less cluttered.

One problem, though?

He couldn't block anyone from messaging him. Some nonsense about 'always staying connected with all inhabitants of the Vault' or something along those lines.

So he couldn't help but let out the quietest groan of annoyance when he saw who it actually was.

_[Lance Rosales]: sup mullet_

Six years ago, if things had been different between them, he would've loved being able to message Lance whenever he wanted. The two used to be friends way back when they were kids. Neither of them really had anyone else to hang around, so they just kinda... gravitated towards each other. He thought Lance actually liked him.

Turns out, that wasn't the case.

After Keith's tenth birthday, everything changed between them. Harmful words severed their ties and made Lance drop his little pity facade. He didn't pretend anymore. He let his real feelings towards Keith show, while he hung out with his _real_ friends- Lotor, Nyma, and Rolo. 

The four of them caused quite a bit of trouble around the Vault. If something just 'happened' to break down or malfunction after it was originally working fine, it was probably caused by them. They were pretty open about it, mainly because Lotor's dad being the head of Vault security made them practically untouchable. As long as they didn't harm anyone they could pretty much do whatever they wanted without worrying about getting punished for it. 

They called themselves the gang of Vault 101, or officially, the 'Blade of Marmora'. They even had matching leather jackets to go along with it. Old black leather, with the same purple and white logo embroidered on the back.

For a self-proclaimed gang, they didn't really bother people in general. Just 'harmless pranks', with one exception.

Keith.

They seemed to love tormenting him in particular. Talking shit about him when they knew he could hear them, egging him on, just _daring_ him to throw the first punch. The challenge was always unspoken, invisible everywhere but their eyes. Their shark tooth grins. Poking the sleeping tiger with a firing squad waiting to open fire once it swiped it's claws.

He wasn't stupid. He knew if he ever _did_ swing, he'd be the only one punished for it. No matter what they'd do to him in retaliation, it'd just be treated as self defense. Knowing that was probably the only reason he hadn't knocked their lights out yet.

Some days, it was pretty damn tempting.

This was the first time one of them had actually messaged him, though. And it was from _Lance,_ of all people. Definitely not a good sign. Not good at all.

Scowling down at his screen, he quickly typed up a reply.

_[User]: fuck off._

A reply quickly popped up.

_[Lance Rosales]: wow rude_   
_[Lance Rosales]: i thought we were closer than that, nosebleed_

That was one of the gang's favorite nicknames for him. They had many in their arsenal, some more personalized than others. Lance tended to make fun of his hair, Lotor and Rolo his attitude, and Nyma tended not to dwell on just _one_ aspect to poke fun at.

Every time, he itched to shut them up. They all knew just the right chords to strike, trying so very hard to play him like an instrument, and they kept waiting for the moment their notes floated through the open air. But he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He'd just clench his fist, bite his tongue, and head just a bit faster back home to the clinic.

_[User]: right._   
_[User]: and I'm the president of the united states._

_[Lance Rosales]: that's cute_

_[User]: I try._   
_[User]: now, what the fuck do you want?_

_[Lance Rosales]: always so grouchy_   
_[Lance Rosales]: why do you think I want anything_   
_[Lance Rosales]: maybe I just wanna talk to you, buddy ol pal_

_[User]: why?_   
_[User]: we're not even friends._

A part of him felt... almost guilty after he sent that. They used to be friends once, and he was a pretty big part of the reason it finally crumbled. He'd be the first to admit- what he'd said to Lance that day wasn't okay. Not by a long shot.

But it was an old wound, like the broken nose or black eyes he got as a result. Wounds should close up, scars usually faded away.

Not this one.

Keith just learned to ignore the pain and the guilt.

_[Lance Rosales]: ._   
_[Lance Rosales]: anyways._   
_[Lance Rosales]: just wanted to let ya know_   
_[Lance Rosales]: your best friends are waiting for you after class_   
_[Lance Rosales]: so see ya in like_   
_[Lance Rosales]: 3 minutes_

Keith read the messages over and over again, running it in his head. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he realized what was going to happen pretty damn soon. For once, he wished class was just a bit longer. Maybe they'd get bored after a half hour or so of waiting and leave to do something else.

He glanced at the clock. 2 minutes left.

The lights flicked on. He could hear the other students shuffling papers and old used notebooks into their schoolbags. Iverson was probably wrapping up his lecture by now. Keith wasn't really paying attention; he was too busy staring at the clock. Willing time to pause, or slow down, or _anything_ that might help him.

Nothing.

1 minute left of class.

He could always stay after class, if he wanted to. Join Takashi in his usual after-school activity and talk to Iverson about the Great War or something. Probably get into an argument with him. Probably end up suspended from class for about a week. Again. That's what usually happened whenever the two tried talking after class.

Yeah, Dad would definitely _love it_ if that happened. He wouldn't yell; he never did. He would probably just give his son the same old, tired and pained expression he always had after a tough day at the clinic. Or whenever one of his sons (aka you-know-who) disappointed him somehow.

Keith _hated_ being the cause of that expression. So that option was out. Which left him with pretty much nothing.

Great.

Keith sighed and resigned himself to his fate. He was just gonna take his chances and hope for the best.

He didn't have to wait very long for the opportunity.

The bell rang, showing that it was finally the end of another day. Most students couldn't get out of their desk chairs fast enough. They probably had something to look forward to, little things like plans for dinner that night or just getting out of the room they'd spent the last 6 hours in. Keith was usually one of those kids. (Mainly for the latter reason, 'cause he _sucked_ at cooking and Takashi and Dad were usually too busy at the clinic to make anything once they got home.)

But not today.

Today, Keith waited for most of the sea of students to pass. The way he saw it- he could probably blend in and just avoid the Blades entirely. No one would even have a possibility to get punched, and nobody would get in trouble for it. It seemed like a win-win scenario.

If it actually worked, that is.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Allura's face, eyebrows slightly furrowed and crystal blue eyes toeing at concern, met his gaze when he went to see who the owner of the hand was. Her long jet black hair was pulled into a very messy bun, and he could see the faint beginnings of eyebags creeping up onto her face.

"Keith," she said. The other students merely moved around her. "Are you okay? You seem kind of... distant." An eyebrow quirked up. "Is something wrong?"

He quickly shook his head. "No, I'm fine." He assured quickly. Allura was already stressed out enough- with her constant studying to take her father's place as Overseer of the entire Vault one day. She already had that and plenty more to worry about; she didn't need him heaping his own problems on her shoulders. 

He gave her a hopefully convincing smile. "See you in the training room later?"

The Vault didn't really have an official training room for anyone who wasn't a guard. But, for his 10th birthday, Dad showed him the little setup they had in one of the extra rooms on the lower level. At first it was just a shooting range with a few crude handmade targets out of scrap metal and Takashi's old BB gun, but they all quickly learned something about Keith- he was an _awful_ shot. 

Even after his black eyes healed, that was still the case. So Dad, Allura, and Takashi fashioned together a few training dummies to vent on and an old baseball bat for him. It was great at first, but the charm of it wore off quickly. He wanted a challenge; something that taught him something useful, like how to best throw a punch or protect himself from one.

So, almost every night before curfew, he had sparring sessions. Usually with guards who had time to kill and nothing better to do. But sometimes Allura or Takashi spared him some time out their work-filled schedules to see what he'd learned. They still bested him a couple of times, but that number was getting smaller and smaller with each passing year.

It was also a great way to vent. Probably one of the few reasons he hadn't decked Lotor in the face yet.

Allura smiled back. She moved her hand from Keith's shoulder to his hair and ruffled it a bit. Like she was 10 years older than him instead of just 4. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

With that, she left the classroom. Only a few students still remained with Iverson. Keith and Takashi included, but he quickly left while his big brother went to talk to the teacher.

For the first couple steps out of the classroom, Keith thought he was fine. Some students were hanging around the halls in their usual friend groups, but he could only see the standard faded blue and yellow Vault jumpsuits. There wasn't a bit of black leather or familiar unfriendly faces anywhere. Just the same people he'd barely known throughout his entire life. He knew their names and faces- that was pretty much it.

Maybe Lance was just trying to psyche him out, trying to rile him up. He wouldn't put it past any of them to do that to him. But it would be kind of a surprise. Out of all the 'pranks' they ever pulled on him, this would definitely be one of the tamer ones.

That thought lasted all of one minute before he felt a hand grip the back of his collar. It quickly pulled him toward the source hiding in an empty daycare room, the arm moving over his shoulders like they were comfortable friends. Keith looked to see just _which one_ of them did it.

He met face-to-face with Lotor's smarmy grin. His long dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, hazel eyes glistening with obvious intent. 

If Keith didn't know any better, he'd probably assume that Lotor was Nyma's twin instead of Rolo. (Thankfully he did know better, and would never bring it up unless he wanted a pretty justified punch to the face.) Their hairstyles and hair color were nearly identical, and Nyma's skin was only a shade or two darker than the gang's leader.

The twins stood together a few feet away, almost a stark contrast of the other. Their eye color and shared facial figures were the only thing that tipped off that they were related. Rolo sat on an old toy box, arms crossed and leaning against the wall. Nyma was standing just a few feet away.

Lance stood right next to Nyma with an arm slung over her shoulder. A tinge of... something struck Keith's chest at the sight. The feeling was quickly pushed down to worry about later, but not before he saw Nyma give him a mildly surprised expression. It was quickly replaced by a knowing look.

He wasn't really sure what exactly she 'knew', but it probably could (and _would)_ be used against him.

He tried to push himself away from the contact, but Lotor's elbow hooked around his neck. The old leather sleeve felt weird against his skin, and he could tell it wouldn't be moving anytime soon. He huffed out a frustrated sigh and stopped. "What do you _want,_ Lotor?"

"Aw, c'mon Kogane," Lotor said in a faux hurt way. "You don't need to be _rude."_

"Yeah," Rolo piped up. "We just wanted to pay you a visit. See how our favorite resident mullethead's doin'."

Lotor gestured towards him. _"Exactly._ It's been a while, man." He used his other hand to noogie Keith's hair, knuckles digging into his scalp a bit harder than necessary. "How've you been?"

This entire exchange felt way too familiar. Like they were all the best of friends and not annoyances and their favorite target. There was barely any of their usual relentless teasing, and somehow that actually made him feel worse about this whole situation. He felt more tense than usual. Alarm bells were going off in his head. They were telling him to run, to get out before the other shoe finally dropped.

"Though, I don't really know why you're trying to bother with him." Nyma spoke up with a malicious glint in her eye. Keith's stomach dropped. "He was pretty clear about where he stands with us just a few minutes ago." She looked up at Lance with a smirk. "Right, baby?"

Lance nodded. "Pretty much, yeah." Dark blue eyes bore into him. It felt like they were trying to drill through his chest.

Lotor's were doing the exact same thing when he checked. He faked a thoughtful look. "Now that you mention it," he lifted a brow. "What _gives?_ Lance here just wanted to talk to his old friend, and what did he get?"

The alarms in his head were getting louder, but he felt like he couldn't move. His limbs felt locked into place. His stomach churned. His head swam, mind racing for some way to get himself out of this mess.

Lotor pressed Keith against the wall and leaned in closer. "Answer me, Kogane." He could feel the puffs of breath on his face. Lotor's breath carried the faintest scent of alcohol, and it made him want to puke. His heart raced in panic. He needed to get out of here _now,_ but Lotor sure as hell wasn't giving him an easy way out.

He just kept getting closer and closer. Backing an animal into a corner.

"Uh, dude," he heard a voice tinged with nervousness pipe up. It took him a second to realize just who it belonged to. "Maybe you should tone it down a bit?"

_Lance._

He heard Nyma scoff. "Yeah," she said. "Freak like him might actually get turned on by it."

Part of him wanted to burst out laughing. The day something like _that_ happened would be the day he quit training. And pretty much everything else in life.

Right now, though, wasn't a great time for cracking up.

He could practically see the wheels turning in Lotor's head as realization dawned on him. Then the smarmy, shark-tooth grin quickly returned as he pressed his body against Keith's. Worst part was- it actually wrenched a gasp out of him. 

He's never felt more ashamed in his life. 

He tried to move, but at this point Lotor had already boxed him into the corner. There was only one way out.

But he still tried a different approach one last time.

"Lotor," Keith gritted out one last warning. _"Stop."_

Right now, he wanted nothing more than to knock Lotor's lights out. The overshadowing threat of punishment from Zarkon was pretty much the only thing stopping him.

"Or what, Princess?" He practically purred, sending Keith teetering on the edge. "'S probably the most action someone like you's ever gonna ge-"

Actually, you know what?

_Fuck it._

Keith's razor-thin patience finally snapped.

With an all-too-satisfying crack against his stinging fist, Lotor staggered back in surprise. At that moment, Keith wanted nothing more than to revel in the pure shocked expression pointed at him. Or throw another while he was distracted to make up for all the times he'd wanted to over the years. Both were pretty tempting ideas, to be honest.

But Keith had an opportunity. He should take it while he still could. That seemed like the safer option right now. He'd have plenty of time for the former idea later.

So he ran. He ran out of the room like devils were nipping at his heels, down the empty hallway. If he could make it back to the clinic, he'd be safe. Home free.

The quick footsteps behind him indicated it wouldn't be that easy. Two followed closely behind, one just a bit ahead of the other. The other two joined in after a few minutes.

 _God,_ he couldn't help but think irritably as he turned the corner to yet another empty hallway. _Why can't there ever be guards around when you actually_ need _them?_

They probably wouldn't do much to keep him from getting beat up, but at least there'd be witnesses to guarantee he wouldn't get murdered. It would've been a small consolation, but it'd be better than nothing. It'd be better than what he had at the moment.

A sudden weight propelled at his back caused him to topple forward. Colorful stars danced in his vision for a split second as his jaw not-too-kindly met the unforgiving steel floor. He ignored the pain, rolling onto his back with a slight grunt. The sight of Nyma just above him greeted him, as friendly as a flame in a dry straw house.

She looked _pissed._ More angry than he'd ever seen her, loose strands of hair reaching down for him and fiery fury in her eyes. She had an iron grip on his wrists, keeping them in place.

Her knee to his ribcage knocked the air out of his lungs. Made it hard to focus for a brief moment.

But he could definitely focus on one thing- escape to safety. All he needed was to get out and an uninterrupted minute of running and he'd be fine. Dad and Takashi would make sure he was safe. For that guarantee at this point, he would do anything. Even headbutt Nyma.

Which he actually did. A burst of pain erupted in his forehead, ringing like a bell directly in his head. He'd definitely have a headache later. But that would be future Keith's problem.

Present Keith's problem was that it wasn't enough. Nyma hissed in pain, but her grip didn't waver. No matter how hard he struggled to break free, she stayed persistent. Held on with absolutely everything she had. 

When he got away from this, he had to remind himself to learn how to get out of a situation like this so it'd never happen again.

One of her hands let go of his wrist. Before he could react, a wave of pain crashed into his eye. Closely followed by another when he shut his eye with a wince. An arm slung over his face protected him from any more of her hits. He could feel his injured eye start to swell.

"Nyma," The other eye saw a familiar tan hand rest on her shoulder. Her shoulders and grip loosened at the touch as she looked up at Lance. "That's enough, hun. We don't wanna kill 'im."

"Speak for yourself," he heard Lotor call out as he stepped up to the group, Rolo close behind. With a bit of pride, he noted Lotor's nose was bleeding. The shameless part of him _really_ hoped he broke it. Especially when Lotor glowered down at him. "I'm gonna make sure this little punk _pays_ for what he just did."

"Y'know," Rolo piped up. "Your dad could always do it. You don't have to."

Lotor looked towards him. "I _know,_ and he will." That harsh gaze focused back down on Keith with a laser-like intensity. "But I wanna do it first. He might need a better lesson."

Before he could stop it, Keith let out a laugh.

He could see Lotor's eye twitch. He knelt down onto his knees, only slightly above Keith now. Nyma leaned to the side, trying to get away from the dangerous expression on her friend's face.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

And, since apparently the filter he usually had was beaten out of him, Keith actually responded.

"You're so _fucking cliche,_ you know that right?"

He didn't regret it when the first hit landed. Or the second. Or the ones following afterwards. He could feel the bruises blooming on his face. His bottom lip split. But the pain didn't really bother him much. It felt nearly the same as a couple failed sparring sessions in a row. The thought helped desensitize him to it a bit.

Finally, it stopped.

Keith opened his good eye to see both Lance and Rolo each holding onto one of Lotor's arms. He wasn't fighting it, just panting. His knuckles were an angry red, with just a few drops of blood traveling down his fingers. Nyma studied Keith's face in consideration for a brief moment, then finally moved off of him. Her expression softened.

"Go," she said. "Get outta here."

He was more than happy to oblige.

As he predicted, it only took about a minute's run to get back to the clinic. Now he hoped Dad and Takashi were out by the time he got there so he could slip into his room for the night. He didn't really feel like explaining the condition of his face right now. Not when the metallic taste was fresh in his mouth or bruises brand new on his skin.

He was only half as lucky as he needed to be.

Dad wasn't at the clinic, but Takashi sat at the desk in his pristine white lab coat typing something into the terminal. He paused at the approaching footsteps and turned his head to see who it was. Takashi's eyes widened immediately at seeing him. He rushed to Keith's side, observing the damage.

"Oh my god," he breathed out. "Keith, what happened?"

Keith moved the hand reaching out to touch his face dismissively. "Nothing important," he lied. "Where's Dad?"

He didn't look the slightest bit convinced or relieved. But he still answered the question. "Talking to the Overseer." He pointed to a dull chrome chair by the wall. "Go sit. I'll help with what I can." He turned to get something out of the desk drawers.

"I don't need-"

Takashi looked back and gave him a stern look. The kind of look that told him what he just said hadn't been a request. The kind of look his brother very rarely pointed towards him.

The kind of look that shut Keith up and sent him walking over to the chair.

-

Two months passed. Keith actually didn't get too bad of a punishment, after an argument between Dad and Zarkon. Both he and Lotor got 'house arrest' for about a week. His bruises eventually healed. His eye eventually swelled up.

In those two months, he started training more. Any hours not in class or doing chores around the Vault before curfew were spent in the training room. Whether it was sparring or lessons, almost all his time was spent there. 

Most nights, he'd come home with sore, work-weary limbs. But he learned not to mind it that much.

It actually helped him sleep.

The self-defense teaching was nice, but sleep was actually the main reason why he did it so much. If he was exhausted, he could pass out instead of worrying about the G.O.A.T slowly inching closer and closer.

The GOAT, or Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test, was a standardized test every 16 year old in the Vault took each year. For anyone younger than 16, GOAT day was pretty great. Mainly because days off from school were pretty rare.

But for 16 year olds, it was absolutely _nerve-wracking._ It wasn't a graded test. Or not 'graded' by usual standards, at least. It was a test that determined your job in the Vault for the rest of your working life. Every answer could make you the Vault's new chaplain or waste management specialist. It wasn't a test you studied for, but it held your life's direction by a string. After the end of school at 21, your result determined how you spent your time.

The thought alone terrified him.

Tests weren't really that scary to him. They were easy enough, if you really understood the topic. Or if you had a good enough memory. They never made him feel queasy like the GOAT did. As days passed and the dreaded day came closer, it only got worse.

Finally, the day arrived.

He woke up to a hand gently shaking his shoulder. An eye cracked open to peek at Takashi standing by his bedside.

"Hey," his brother smiled softly down at him. "Guess what day it is?"

Keith groaned and tried his best to cover his entire body with his thick red comforter.

"Come on," Takashi chided. "You know everyone has to go through this at some point, Keith. Why don't you just get it over with?"

Keith burrowed further underneath the blanket. Like trying to hide from it would actually make it go away like his childhood nightmares. "Can't," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "'M sick."

"Really?" He didn't sound like he believed it. Probably wasn't the best idea to fake sick with your entire family being doctors. But did that mean he wasn't going to try it? Hell no.

Keith simply nodded. He felt a new weight press down on the bed.

"Pop your head out." Takashi's hand held onto the edge of the blanket covering it.

"Why?"

He felt the blanket unceremoniously ripped off his head. Then a cool hand moved past his bangs and rested on his forehead. It was slightly heated, but definitely not a fever. If he could tell that immediately, so could his brother.

"Funny," Takashi hummed in fake consideration. "You don't _seem_ sick."

Keith cracked both eyes open and said pretty much the first thought that popped into his head- "How do you know?"

That obviously surprised Takashi a bit. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," he said. "You're not a _professional_ yet. How do you know I'm not sick with something you don't know how to detect?" At this point, he was pretty much trying to delay the inevitable as long as he possibly could.

Takashi seemed to consider that for a moment. "You have a point," he confessed. _"I_ can't." An idea dawned on him, clear as day in his expression. "But I know who could."

Oh no.

Takashi suddenly scooped his little brother up in his arms, standing up off the bed. The comforter fell off as he was carried off the bed. Keith didn't protest against it, just crossed his arms in a totally-not-pouting manner as the two passed through their little residence. The clinic was just a door away from their living room.

The door slid open to reveal Dad already getting to work. He was sitting at his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose as he focused on whatever was on the terminal's screen. He didn't even notice his sons at first.

Dad only looked at them once Takashi cleared his throat. He blinked, eyes focusing back on the current moment. "Oh," he said, taking his reading glasses off. "Sorry about that." He put his glasses on the desktop, lying beside a stack of Manila folders. It took him a second to realize Keith was in his brother's arms. "Had a hard time getting him up?" He could pick up the slight surprise in his father's voice. 

Usually Keith was the earliest one up. Unless Dad didn't get any sleep at all.

"Yeah," Takashi sat Keith down onto the nearest observation table. "It's GOAT day today, but he says he's too sick to go."

"I _am_ too sick to go," Keith protested, looking to his dad. "Takashi just can't tell."

"Ah," Dad said. "I think I know what's going on." He stepped up to the table Keith sat upon and glanced over to Takashi. "Could you get me some coffee?"

Takashi frowned at that. "You know, you shouldn't drink so much of that stuff." He warned. "You of all people know what it can do to you."

"I promise I'll cut back," he said. "After the next cup." Keith watched as the two had a brief stare-off; one expression hard and the other soft. "Please?"

Takashi didn't even flinch. "How many have you had today?"

"Just one," Dad assured. "I won't have any more today after this one."

The glare lasted a few more seconds until Takashi finally sighed in resignation. His expression softened. "Fine," he relented. "Same as usual?" He moved back into their residence after Dad simply nodded. The door closed behind him.

Dad watched him go, and only turned to Keith again after he knew he was gone. "So," he started, moving to a nearby array of tools. "Could you describe how you're feeling sick?"

Keith shrugged. "It's been happening for a while now," he said, crossing his arms over his stomach. Almost hugging himself. "I think about the GOAT and my stomach starts to hurt and I get tense and--" As he spoke, he could feel it starting up again. His stomach started to churn and his shoulders started to hunch subconsciously. 

He went still when he felt his father's hand on his shoulder.

"It's scary, Keith," he said. "I'm not going to lie to you about that. And you have to believe I'm not lying about this either." His hands lightly gripped his son's shoulders. "You are one of the smartest people I know, and I know you're going to make me proud with whatever you get." His expression was genuine. He meant every word. He cast his eyes down at his next words, like he was confessing a secret. "And if your mother was here, I know she'd be proud of you, too."

Keith didn't really know what to say. Dad didn't like talking about Mom much- he never did. When Keith was younger, he used to pester him about her all the time until Allura took him aside and explained why he shouldn't. The topic made his father sad. Even back then, he didn't like making Dad feel worse. So he stopped. Pretended he didn't really mind barely knowing anything about her.

But it still gnawed at him sometimes. He didn't really get to know her, but from the bits and pieces he got, he wished he had. Even for a few years. So he went with what he really wanted to say.

"...What was she like?" Keith asked, looking at his father tentatively. "Mom."

Dad simply sighed, moving his hands away. He turned around and sat next to Keith on the observation table. "I had a feeling you were going to ask something like that." He expression grew wistful, his tired eyes staring off into space. Or maybe back through time in this case. "She was... passionate. About life, love, _everything._ When she was pregnant, it was the happiest I'd ever seen her." He looked back to Keith. "You remind me of her, actually."

That was new. "Really?"

Dad nodded. "She had quite the fiery temper when she was your age," he said. "Kind of quiet and standoffish until you got to know her, but she had a kind heart and a quick mind." His eyes shone with pride. That light quickly dimmed. "...And she always hated it here, too. Always wanted to get out of the Vault and help the world left behind by the bombs."

Keith listened intently, eyes widening at the last bit. How did Dad _know_ that about him? He thought he kept it to himself pretty well.

"I know the Vault isn't perfect," he said, holding one of Keith's hands in his own. "But I promise it's safer than whatever's out there." He said it with a deathly seriousness, like that was a fact he knew was right. For a moment, Keith wondered why. "So do you think you can get through the GOAT today?"

Despite himself, Keith nodded. He didn't regret it as much when Dad smiled at him.

"Good." He said. The hand that had been holding his moved out of his grasp and gave Keith's back a pat. "Now get going. I don't want your mother's ghost haunting me because one of her only children became a garbage burner." Keith gave him a slight glare. Dad put his hands up in surrender. "I'm kidding." The smile was back. "You're meant for much better than that."

The encouragement powered him up enough to get to the doorway.

"And Keith?" Dad called from behind him. He looked back to see Takashi coming to his side with a steaming white mug. "We love you."

Takashi gave him a smile. "Good luck," he said. "You have all day, so don't rush it and you'll be fine. Remember- patience yields focus."

Those words rung in his head all the way through the halls to the classroom.

-

_"Keith!"_

The familiar voice calling for him and the hand desperately shaking his shoulder woke him up. He cracked an eye open to see Allura looking down at him with a worried expression on her face. Takashi stood behind her, school bag slung over his shoulder. It looked a bit more full than it usually did. Like it was packed up with more than just the usual school supplies.

Through the walls, he could hear alarms blaring down the Vault's hallways. Something big must've happened.

"Get up and pack up what you need," Takashi told him. "We're going."

Keith sat up, rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes. His brows furrowed. "'Going'?" He asked. "Going where? What's goin' on?"

"Your dad left the Vault," Allura told him, glancing at the door nervously. "And my father's men are looking for you two. Your only option right now is to follow him."

He suddenly felt wide awake at her words. _"What?"_ He slung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed at his boots. He put them on as fast as he possibly could, despite his slightly trembling fingers. Mainly because he was still trying to wrap his head around what Allura said. Why would Dad leave the Vault without telling them? Especially when he _knew_ how Keith hated it here. A spark of anger flared up at the thought.

He quickly squashed it down. There'd be plenty of time to be pissed off later. Right now, he had more important problems.

Keith stood up out of bed, picking his school bag up and emptying it out. Unimportant papers flooded out, fanning out from his small old desk to the floor by Takashi's boots. He looked back at Allura. "How long do you think we have?"

"Not very long," she said. "I'll go out and try to buy you some time, but you need to get to my father's office as soon as you can." She reached for something behind her neck. Her fingers lifted it up to reveal something that had been hidden by her jumpsuit's collar- a dull metal cord looped into a small key ring, holding only one key. Unhooked from her neck, she passed the necklace into Takashi's hands. "There's a secret tunnel to the Vault door under his desk. Use the key to open it. I'll catch up with you if I can, but don't wait for me." She nervously smiled at the two. "Good luck." She then turned around and started to head out.

"Allura," she stopped at the doorway when Takashi spoke up.

She turned to look back at him. "Yes?"

He saw Takashi smile at her. "Thank you," he said. "And stay safe, okay?"

Her smile grew a bit less nervous. "I will," she said. "That applies to you, too." She left quickly, letting the door slide shut behind her.

Takashi looked back to him. "Get what you need," he said. "We're going in less than two minutes." It was left unsaid, but both of them knew they probably wouldn't ever come back once they left. Keith nodded in understanding, and Takashi left the room.

Keith quickly got to work at stuffing his bag with essentials. Stuff like spare clothes, two still-full boxes of BB pellets he never used, medical supplies from the first aid kit attached to the wall. He kept his old baseball bat in his hand, just in case. He barely even blinked at most of his other childhood things. Now wasn't a time to be sentimental. He could afford to leave most of them behind.

Only two things made him pause and reconsider that logic.

They were stupid children's toys. He always said he wanted to throw them out and give them back to the daycare centers, but that was a blatant lie. They were more important to him than they probably should be, considering. Thoughtful presents from his only childhood friend given to him on the day their friendship fell apart.

The red and blue trucks they used to play with together.

Despite himself, Keith quickly tucked both of them underneath his spare clothes. Hidden from sight, but still there. Takashi didn't need to know until later. If he needed to know at all.

Rapt knocks sounded at his door. "Keith," Takashi said. "You almost ready to go?"

"Yeah," Keith replied. He closed his bag and grabbed his baseball bat. "I'm coming out now." The door opened to reveal his brother waiting for him right by the doorway.

The two walked side by side in tense silence. The alarms reverberated through the Vault's hallways, only the slightest bit fainter in their home. It felt like a call, nonexistent hands pulling them out of the only home they'd ever known. The door to the clinic closed behind them. Keith didn't bother to look back.

He knew he should probably be more conflicted about leaving, but he really wasn't. He'd been wanting to see the world outside the steel trap called Vault 101 for most of his life. One of his reasons for staying was coming with him, and another had already left.

He still wasn't sure how to feel about Dad leaving without a word to either of them. But now wasn't the time for pesky feelings tying his stomach into knots. There'd be time for that later; preferably when they found wherever the hell Dad wandered off to.

The two of them stilled as a guard stumbled into the hallway just a few feet in front of them. They had a 9mm pistol in their hands, fingers ready on the trigger. Instinctively, Keith's grip on the bat's handle tightened in preparation. But they weren't looking at either of the brothers. Two shots fired, and a dead radroach about the size of his forearm stumbled into view a few inches away from the guard.

Then the guard looked at them. Through the helmet, Keith could see her dark hair edged with silver and widened brown eyes. He recognized who it was immediately.

Rolo and Nyma's mom, Sybil.

Her shoulders visibly deflated. "Thank God it's you two," she said, stepping closer. "Listen, I have orders to bring you two in. But I like your father, so I'm gonna let you go. Get outta here and I'll pretend I never saw you, alright?"

"Okay," Takashi said with a nod. "Thank you." He started to walk again, and Keith followed after him. He was a little bit suspicious, but he couldn't afford to ask questions right now. He just hoped she was telling the truth.

Despite how confining they really were compared to the rest of the world, the Vault's walls usually felt spacious. The only exception was right now. He'd never felt so anxious briskly walking through the hallways. The alarms intermingled with the scuttling sounds of the radroaches that found their way in, the pounding of fists on steel doors in lockdown, and far off gunshots. The mixture felt like it was designed to make him paranoid, sticking close to Takashi and ready for a fight with every corner they turned.

So when a hand gripped at his shoulder, he was ready to turn around and swing a home run. The only thing that stopped him from doing so was the familiar voice attached to the hand. A voice he'd always known pretty well throughout most of his life.

Lance's voice.

"Keith," he said, voice edged with panic and fear. Takashi stopped next to Keith. "You've _gotta_ help me. M-my mom, she's..." His eyes shone with tears threatening to fall. 

"She's what?" Keith asked. "What's wrong?"

"She's trapped in her room with a couple a' radroaches," Lance told him. "I-I can't get the door open and she's _dying_ in there." His hands gripped desperately at Keith's arms. "I know we haven't gotten along, but if you help me save her, I _promise_ I'll make it up to you." Despite the anxious trembling, Lance looked both deathly serious and deathly afraid. His hands squeezed slightly. _"Please."_

In almost any other situation, Keith would've teased him a little bit. He'd still help, but a tiny part of him wanted to be just the tiniest bit cruel first.

He quickly ignored that pretty fucked up part. Lance's mom was all he had, and in the moment Keith couldn't relate to him more. Keith was even lucky enough to have a brother. If Lance's mom died, he'd be alone.

If he remembered one thing about Lance, it was that he _hated_ being alone.

Keith made his decision in a second and looked to Takashi. "Keep going," he said. "I'll take care of this."

"What about you?"

"What _about_ me?" He pretended not to notice the hopeful look starting to rise up on Lance's face. "At least one of us has gotta go get Dad back."

"No," Takashi said. "I'm not going to just _leave_ you here!"

"You might not have to," Keith lied, moving back towards the open door to Lance's residence. "I'll try to be as quick as I can, but don't wait up for me." Takashi looked more and more conflicted with every word. "If I don't catch up with you in five minutes, just assume I'm not going."

"Keith," he said, searching for the right words to say. "I-I can't-"

Keith stepped into the room, Lance anxiously waiting beside him. Approaching footfalls sounded down the hallway. Takashi didn't have much time left to get out.

In that moment, Keith made another decision.

"Yes you can," he eyed the door controls. "And you will." Without a second thought, Keith slammed the button to shut the door. The last thing he saw before it closed was Takashi's widening eyes as he realized what his brother was going to do. He heard the lock click and fists slam against the metal; too little, too late.

They quickly stopped. He could only hope it was for the right reasons.

Lance shot him an unreadable expression for a few seconds, then gestured for him to follow. Keith obeyed, trailing behind him down the short still-familiar halls. Not much had changed over the years, other than the slight fade almost everything had now. 

Or maybe they were always that way, and Keith was only really noticing it now.

He quickly shrugged the thought off. He could dwell on it later.

Lance finally stopped, gesturing to his mom's bedroom door. "Here it is," he said, shifting from one foot to another nervously. "Do you think you can... I-I dunno, _do_ something to open it up?"

Keith eyed the door control. Keycards wouldn't work, not during lockdown. But he might have something that would work the same.

"Stand back," he instructed, and Lance hesitantly obeyed. He lifted his bat up into position, readying his swing. Just like hitting a stationary ball. One that might or might not cause the door to open when he busted it.

Keith ignored the realization dawning on Lance's face and swung. Sparks and smoke shot up as the strong wood crashed full-force into metal. The pungent smell of burnt wires filled the air, clinging to him and crawling down his throat. It made him want to gag.

But the door did open for them to reveal Mrs. Josephine slumped back on the floor, her head lolled back onto the mattress. She still gripped onto a broken beer bottle in one hand. Shards of it were scattered around the room, embedded in two of five dead radroaches on the floor. Dozens of little bites were littered about her visible skin, and for a moment it looked like she wasn't breathing.

 _"Mama!"_ Lance rushed to her side, tense and checking her pulse.

Keith reached into the bag, pulling out an empty syringe. He knew he packed RadAway somewhere in his bag. He frowned a bit, rifling through his supplies for one.

Lance's voice snapped him out of it. "...What are you doing?"

Just then, he found the familiar pack and gingerly took it out. It looked and felt just like an IV bag, but filled with a radiation-purging amber-colored fluid. He stepped into the room. "I've seen my Dad do this procedure before," he said, carefully slipping the needle into the pack without breaking it open. "Radroaches can't really do much damage on their own, but they carry enough radiation to kill in a few days." He eyed the bites. "So she definitely needs this."

"What does that do?" Lance asked with a hint of worry in his voice. It was pretty weird to hear. He'd grown (reluctantly) used to confident, obnoxious bully Lance with a bit more heart than his friends. Seeing this side of Lance, the concerned son, was... 'weird' was the only word to describe it. Weird in a good way.

Keith let the fluid into the syringe with careful hands. It was filled nearly to the brim when he finally stopped. "Purges excess radiation from your body, if you apply it right." He removed the needle from the pack and placed the half empty pack gently back into his bag. "Could you hold out her wrist for me?"

Lance nodded and did as he was told. He looked between Keith and his mom nervously, teasing his bottom lip with his teeth as Keith knelt down to her. "You sure this is gonna work?" He asked.

Keith nodded, lining up the tip of the needle with the skin above her artery. "I'm still here, aren't I?" He said nonchalantly. Radroaches tended to sneak into the training room, and they'd rarely get a lucky bite or two on him.

Without another word between the two, Keith slowly stuck the needle in. A little bit of blood rose up at the intrusion, but it didn't even get up to the top layer of skin. Once he was sure he had it in the right place, he slowly unloaded the RadAway into her system. "There we go," Taking the empty syringe out was much faster. He stood up and placed it on the nearest table. "When she wakes up, she'll probably have to throw up a lot, but she should be fine." He headed down the hallway back to the living room.

"Wait!" He heard footsteps behind him quickly catch up, and something was draped over his shoulders. He looked down to see familiar black leather and purple embroidering down the sleeves. He shot Lance a confused look.

"What's this for?" He asked.

Lance shrugged. "You probably saved my mom's life," he said. "I had to give you _something._ Besides," he gave Keith a small smile. "You seem like the type of guy to wear leather jackets and stuff like that."

"...Thanks?" Was that a compliment or an insult? He really couldn't tell. "You know, you don't have to give me anything. I... didn't do it for you."

That sounded a lot less insulting in his head.

Lance simply gave him a smiling expression tinged with sadness. "Yeah, I know, 'we're not friends' and yadda yadda," he sat down on the couch. "But it was still a cool thing to do. I appreciate it, man."

Keith sat down on the opposite end of the couch awkwardly. He felt the cool and smooth surface of the old leather jacket under his fingertips, unsure of what to say to fill the uncomfortable silence. Finally, he looked at Lance to see those dark blue eyes focused on him like a spotlight. He stopped. "Oh," he said. "Do you... want this back? Cause I-"

Lance shook his head. "Nah," he said, with a fond smile. "Keep it. It suits you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr: squishy--squish  
> comments are always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> please don't hate me  
> it gets better from here  
> my tumblr: squishy--squish  
> comments are always appreciated!


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